Love of Thy Father
by DdraigCoch
Summary: [REWRITTEN the first THREE chapters!] The Children of Gimli, Aragorn and Legolas all get kidnapped by the dark, and the bad guys now have names. Next Gen, No Slash as yet
1. Chapter 1 In the Middle of the night

**Love of thy Father**

**Story**: The children of the remaining fellowship are kidnapped by the dark and challenge their fathers to find them.

**Note**: If I've spelt any of the Middle Earthen place names wrong, please let me know. Otherwise, enjoy, review, and don't blame me if the spellchecker left anything out!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own these charaters, nor do I make any profit from this spec. I mean no harm,

_Gondor, Minas Tirith:-_

Alleria was woken as someone roughly lifted her up. She didn't realise what was going on at first, not until she heard the ugly whispering and smelled that disgusting smell. Orc. Orcs were kidnapping her! While she beat at the thick, disgusting flesh of the beast carrying her, she screamed until she thought her lungs might burst from the effort. There wasn't anything else she could do, the only thing that could be considered a weapon an unlighted torch, which while producing a dull thud that was quickly swallowed by the commotion her screams had begun, had had absolutely no other effect. Frustrated she kicked at her attackers and pounded their backs but it did no more good than the first time.

"Calm yourself, Princess. T'would be a shame for our little adventure to mar your beauty."

She strained to face the direction from which the honey smooth baritone had come. Out of the corner of her eye she did manage to catch a glimpse of a tall man standing near the window of her room. His face was turned away from the orcs as if in distaste for the scene before him.

"Cover her mouth and let's be done." His voice was customarily cold. He stepped past the orcs towards the door with his face turned into the air; as this show of disgust took place she caught a glimpse of a handsome face and black eyes before the stinking flesh of an orc's meaty fist clamped down over her mouth.

By now servants and a few of the higher ranking lords were awake and out in the corridors, but sleep made them slow to react to the small band of Orcs and the mysterious figure commanding them. The result was chaos and too many of the servants dead under the smashing fists and blades of the dark creatures. The noise of skirmish reached the King's rooms in the form of a faint, horrific, chorus. Screams were mixed with the dark tongue of fallen Mordor and the clashing of steel against steel, but there was one that carried further than the others, one that fairly flew to the tapered ears of Queen Arwen. Her daughter's scream, muffled as it was. In an instant she was awake, shaking the still sleeping form of her husband.

"Elssar, Elssar, something's happening, wake up!" She yelled at him. Unsurprisingly he bolted upright, grabbing for the sword that wasn't there at his side before he could stop himself. His eyes focused on the distressed, pale face next to him. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but his ears decided to join the party and recognised the too well known sound of battle. It clicked in a moment.

"Alleria!"

Quicker than even the members of the fellowship would have given him credit for, he was out the doorway, scooping Andruil up from it's cradle on his way, to race down the corridors Within moments Arwen was in the hallway also and her arrows did not fail to hit their mark, but there were too many of them and once Elssar was knocked unconscious they stole away into the night leaving only a letter and destruction in their wake.

_

* * *

_

_Dwarfs camp:-_

Gimli swung his axe and with every blow knocked the head from another orc, just as his kin were doing around them. Eventually the Orc retreated and Gimli was left staring around the battlefield looking for his daughter and wife. His fellows were all returning to their worried families on the sidelines, and he was forced the order guards and provisions before he had a chance to move from where he stood. Young Gerlot was nowhere to be seen and it was one of the others who brought the letter to him. His wife by this time had shuffled over to where he stood frowning over the muddy piece of parchment. The hand was untrained, and he thought perhaps it was the grunting mammoth of a being that had led the ugly bands.

"What's wrong?" She asked, trying to see the writing, but her husband folded it up and put it away.

"They took her, Tegid. I've got to go and find her."

"Gimli, be careful. Get her back."

"I'll go to Mirkwood and get Legolas' help. I promise I'll get her back."

And with that Gimli set his axe upon his back and started for nearby Mirkwood.

_

* * *

Mirkwood, Elven King's palace:-_

Lothlorn bowed low before his king, the court muttering approvingly around him at the show of respect. The Elven King himself looked more than a little sour, maybe it was because of the reports about the Spiders recent attacks on the outlying villages or maybe it was his son's behaviour. He sighed, pushing blonde hair out of his face with no little frustration when the younger elf didn't rise.

"Lothlorn, please stand up. How often do I have to tell you not to bow?"

"At least once more, Father." Lothlorn replied, finally standing to face the older version of him. The two elves stared at each other in silence for a little while, and still did not break the gaze when the King dismissed his courtiers with a brief wave of his hand.

"What is it, my son?"

"You ordered me away from the hunting parties."

"Yes."

The Princling cast a hurt look at his father, demanding an explanation from him without speaking a word. Sighing heavier than before, Legolas gestured for Lothlorn to come closer and sit on the step at his feet.

"Lothlorn, you have only begun to learn weapon craft and this is a dangerous time in the Greenwood."

"It's always a dangerous time, Father! Tell me, is it Orcs or Spiders this time!"

"Your fellows are not skilled enough to participate, and although your teachers tell me you are the most skilled, they will not stand for me to risk your life!"

Their voices had long ago begun to rise, and the gathering of guards and courtiers despaired at yet another argument between Prince and King. It seemed, as they often remarked, that they were simply too alike for their own good. Amongst them was Glorfindel who had known such scenes before in Mirkwood when Legolas was growing up.

"You care more for the opinion of your teachers than you do of your son!"

"You imagine things! Lothlorn, I am your Father and your King! You will bear my judgment and trust that it is the right one!"

The last echoes of the final shout echoed around the chamber, and without Glorfindel shook his head. Within, storm grey eyes met his son's brown eyes in utter silence.

"I hate being your Prince." He ground out.

Lothlorn Greenleaf stormed angrily from his father's presence, not even pausing to mutter his apologies to the elves he'd shouldered into walls on his hurried way out into the peaceful courtyard. Small pants came from the elfling as he collapsed onto the steps in a decidedly ungraceful manner. Some days he seriously wondered if his father even gave a damn about him, he was always too concerned about the orc threat to do anything but argue with him.

Ignoring the voices of the forest, Lothlorn dropped his face into his hands. It turned out that this was a hugely stupid thing to do as two dark figures jumped out and grabbed him, causing him to drop the bow and quiver he'd taken along to prove his point. He managed to get out one yell that mingled with the cries of the nearby trees before he was gagged and dragged away into the foreboding depths of Mirkwood. A third dark figure hung behind, leaving a letter atop the quiver of the elven Princling. It left far more silently than Orcs had any business leaving a crowded forest.

The last leaf had shifted back into its customary place when a second elf, taller and more commanding than the young Prince but with the same length of blonde hair appeared at the doorway leading out onto the now empty space.

"My Son?" King Legolas called out into the courtyard and the trees beyond, a frown quickly marring his ethereal features as the minutes lengthened and no answer came. The blonde hair he shared with his only child stirred in the night's air, which as ever seemed to carry something of the waves even this far from the ocean. But tonight he heard the forests voice for the first time in five years – and it was a terrible sound. A sound he recognised from the days when the Necromancer still hounded his people. Worried for his son suddenly, he searched for any sign of Lothlorn.

It didn't take him long to discover the quiver lodged atop a pile of leaves near the courtyards' modest fountain. Nor did it take long for him to tare open and read the letter by the moon's gracious light.

"No…" His hands shook slightly, but otherwise appeared as unaffected as ever even while he called for his guards. He would send out a hunt for Lothlorn, but it would do no good.

* * *

P.S. If I get reviews I'll continue. If I don't the spec goes in the recycle bin.

If anyone can tell me what this is in sindarin – hell if anyone can provide me with an elvish translator – I will be eternally grateful to you.


	2. Chapter 2 Strained Meetings

**Love of thy Father (2?)**

**Note**: Thanks to Liz, Lindsay, Willie, Aragorn4eva, grrbaby, Setri-an, Arien, Laigolas, Saruman, S, Shadowgirl, Ravens Quill, Elanya Dulin and Kaiti for reviewing this and giving me the most reviews on any single chapter I've written in 3 years!

**Disclaimer**: See previous part.

**Story**: The children of the remaining fellowship are kidnapped by the dark and challenge their fathers to find them.

* * *

Aragorn was riding hard northwards alone. He would allow no one to go with him, despite his injuries claiming that Legolas's people would see to them when he arrived but he could not wait for them to be tended in Gondor. It took him a week to reach the borders of Mirkwood and he found himself greeted by a company of grimfaced elves. It was rare that a smile would not grace the face of an elf unless some grievous tragedy had occurred, but Aragorn was far too distracted to pay much heed. His horse was shivering and a sweating with the exertion of the last mile of the ride

"Legolas, I need to see Legolas." Aragorn gasped out. His agitation was shown to the elves not only by the lack of any formal titles but also by his not dismounting. One elf stepped forward and it took Aragorn a few moments to recognise Glorfindel standing in front of him. "Glorfindel! Old friend, please, I must see Legolas!"

"He's expecting you, Elssar." and Glorfindel spoke to his horse in elfish before starting off into the forest with Aragorn following behind.

When he arrived at the cabin he found Gimli sitting outside the door smoking his pipe, looking as distressed as he himself felt.

"About time you got here." The Dwarf informed him more gruffly than he would usually be wont to do.

"Good to see you too." Aragorn dismounted and walked towards his friend "Where's Legolas?"

"In his throne room. He refuses to see anyone except Glorfindel." Aragorn moved forward only to be held back by Gimli "That includes us."

"He didn't send you out?" he asked concerned.

"Yes he did. After hearing why I'd come, he sent me away with all the others. That was two days ago." Gimli peered up at the King of Gondor who had spun around with surprise at that little declaration.

"Wha-"

"-He hasn't let me be neglected, Aragorn. And he has been busy; this place has been like a bee hive of late." The dwarf gestured toward the elves that rushed from place to place with a determined stride that the human found almost alien. Such focus of purpose, such activity, all of which was a complete mystery to both of them.

"Why are you here old friend?" Aragorn asked. He allowed Gimli to lead him to a gathering of rocks

"Same reason as you."

"Gerlot?"

Gimli nodded as he knocked out his pipe on the stone he was sitting on. Aragorn sat besides him, his hands twitching restlessly as if longing to part some orc necks from their bodies. They must have been sat in silence for an hour or more when the call went out for their dinner. Aragorn and Gimli were about to walk off and follow the others when a voice cried out behind them.

"My friends, I apologise!" They knew the voice well and turned to find Legolas on the step of the largest cabin. Aragorn smiled briefly at the sight of the elf in travelling cloak and clothes, just as he'd last seen him after his crowning. It was almost comforting. Gimli had gone forward before him and brushed past the Elven King with a gruff 'Crazy elf.'

Aragorn went in next and Legolas closed the door after them. The table was laid ready for a mini-feast and they all sat down together in grim silence.

* * *

Lothlorn woke with a headache for the second time since he'd been kidnapped. The orcs seemed loath to touch him and so he'd been slung across the back of their leaders' horse. But tonight, for night it indeed was, he found he had company in his cold corner against a tree. Two female someone's were lying in front of him and he recognised them both.

"Alleria! Gertol!" He whispered. He moved himself so that he could reach them with his feet and promptly kicked them. It worked. They woke at once and stared at him.

"Lothlorn?" they asked. They had already spent one night in each others company on the way to rendezvous here, so were not shocked at seeing each other. However the Princeling did indeed shock them.

"Do you know what's going on?" Alleria asked, managing to get herself sat up. She was terrified; however she was her fathers' daughter and kept her head.

"Not a clue. Don't think they want to kill us though."

"How'd you know that?"

"They haven't killed us already."

"Our Father's will save us." Gerlot told them firmly. Alleria agreed readily, wasn't her father the King of Gondor after all? Hadn't all three of their fathers helped to defeat Sauron?

Lothlorn kept his silence and wished he'd never woken them up. He was sure his father would not be coming to fetch him. His father was always scolding him. He was never good enough for his father, never had been. He couldn't remember his father smiling a true smile in his direction in years.

To distract himself from the girls' hopeful chatter he glanced around. He could see only one or two orcs nearby but around the fire he saw three figures, all robed in black and all of them different in size. One appeared taller than the others by a good two feet, another was almost painfully thin, and the remaining seemed perfectly normal except that his eyes when he turned his head to look straight at Lothlorn...they were completely black. They had no iris or pupil nor any whites. They were black holes in his skull, and they paralysed Lothlorn for the second they watched him. Then their terrible attention was turned back to their owners' companions.

Lothlorn prayed to his birth stars that if their fathers found them that they'd find them before anything could happen to them.


	3. Chapter 3 Mid Summers Eve

**Love of Thy Father (3?)

* * *

**

"How did you know why I came?" Aragorn asked Legolas after he'd tried to explain what he was doing there. The Elven King merely smiled, a little bitterly, and refilled his goblet. Aragorn and Gimli had finished their meal quickly and in silence, barely looking upwards. Legolas had not touched his meal and had consumed half the wine on his own.

"Answer the man Legolas. This I long to hear."

Legolas drew a piece of parchment from inside his cloak and handed it over to his friends. He drank deep of his goblet while their eyes moved swiftly over the message.

_Your Highness,_

_As thou may have guessed, we have taken into our care thy Son. We wish also to inform thee that thy friends children be also in our power, also that they shall be on their way to thy palace. We shall contact thee and thine afore mid-summer's eve. If thy wish is to see thy child again, you shall cooperate with our wishes._

_Signed_

_General Ackler_

"So you see," Legolas said once they'd finished "I knew already that you would be arriving. And why."

"It's mid-summers eve tomorrow, Legolas." Gimli ground out, his eyes glaring at his friend from under their bushy brows. "I have been here days. You could not have told me earlier!" Aragorn placed one hand on Gimli's shoulder in order to calm the dwarf. This of course did not work, but it at least had the effect of stopping him jumping out of his chair or of shouting at the wine studying Elven King.

"I know this." Legolas replied calmly before knocking back the remaining wine with a flick of the wrist that the King of Gondor had seen him perform one time too many.

"And what are we planning on doing?" Aragorn asked, "Besides watching you drink yourself into oblivion that is?" His hand was still holding Gimli in check, but not just to keep the dwarf's temper reigned in. He was determined to stay calm long enough to get his little girl back, and keeping his grip on Gimli's swarthy shoulder was helping with that goal. Legolas' drinking wouldn't have gotten to him as badly as it was, but their children's lives were on the line.

"We are planning on meeting them and finding out what they want." Legolas Greenleaf answered in the same disturbingly calm voice; he pushed the empty goblet aside after discovering the decanter to be empty.

"It says they will contact us, but not where or when. We can't afford to wait," Aragorn pointed out, casting a brief appraising glance at the elf. "We can't be sure they won't kill them."

"Don't be a dullard." Legolas stood steadier than his companions would have given him credit for, and approached one of the many open windows the hall possessed, with his back to his friends. "I will not sit by afterwards and leave them in the hands of Orcs. I am intending on searching for them the moment communication has ceased on the morrow. What you do -" he turned to the Man and Dwarf "-is up to you. Are you joining me?"

"Yes" Aragorn agreed immediately, standing. Gimli, not one to be left out of any adventure agreed with the same force and went one further by standing on the table. Legolas smiled at them.

"This will be quite the adventure."

* * *

Alleria, Gertol and Lothlorn did not see the three strangers that day, but only two Orcs guards that kept shooting them glances every few minutes. Alleria had become more and more worried about her elfin friend, who had become more and more quiet as the night wore on. Now with dawn raising some life seemed to inject itself into him, and he at least appeared to be listening to...something. She shook her head wearily and lay her head down next to Gertol's, deciding to sleep as much as possible to pass this time all the quicker. Gertol Had been terrified earlier, of the three, she was by far the youngest in attitude. She'd kept giving Lothlorn and Alleria the sort of looks a frightened green private might give a commanding officer.

The sun rose slowly, and as it's first rays hit Lothlorn, he awoke fully, and instead of moving he stayed still and listened to the pulse and beat of the Forrest around him. He wondered vaguely if he'd ever see home again? Would his Father be angry that he'd gotten captured so easily? He didn't know. Unlike Alleria and Gertol, he did not see his father often. He deliberately closed his eyes to shut out the light, not noticing the pair of human eyes that watched him from under hooded lids. Alleria frowned and went to sleep on it.


	4. Chapter 4 Riddles

**Love of thy Father (4?)**

**Note:** Again sorry for my terrible spelling.

**Disclaimer:** See previous parts

**To Rache (who will undoubtedly read this):** Cliffhanging IS a competitive sport! If it were in the Olympics I'd be on the British team, lol.

**Standard Threat:** No Review, No chapters and I give Leggy a haircut...

* * *

Aragorn felt fit to growl when the messenger - one of Mirkwood's large spiders - was winding down. There had been a great deal of boasting, threatening and insults from it before it finally got to the point.

"It's a game, my...lords." the pause was enough to get it's thoughts across without the contemptuous tone "Merely a Game."

"What kind of game?" Legolas had demanded. Perhaps to the spider and even to Gimli he had seemed perfectly calm and reasonable, but not so to Aragorn. He spied the way the elf's hands shook slightly, the near imperceptible tightness around his mouth and dark eyes as hard and sharp as the tips of his arrows. Oh, Greenleaf was as angry as any of them but, the King of Gondor mused, Thranduil had taught his son well. Gimli on the other hand was quite visibly shaking with rage and his hands gripped the handle of his axe so hard that the dwarf's knuckles were quite white. He was silently snarling at the Spider too, but it ignored him. Thankfully. As for himself, Aragorn could not have said whether or not his anger was visible, but he could not recall feeling such a rage since the War of the Ring. He hoped he appeared as cool as Legolas did.

"A Game to see how well you love your children. If you can find them and defeat my Masters, you...Well if you do that, there won't be anyone who will stand against you at any rate. Your crowns are forfeit in addition to your children's lives."

There was silence for a few long moments before the Spider once again broke it with its almost shrieking hissing voice. "Your answer?"

"A bet! A bloody bet! You stupid ugly-" Gimli began, but was interrupted by both Legolas and Aragorn.

"Be silent Gimli."

"How are we meant to find them?" Aragorn continued, gratified that his voice was steady and that Legolas' glare at Gimli had silenced the dwarf. The last thing they wanted, they had decided, was for whoever this Ackler was to realise just how much they were affected. If he knew that then he would be able to manipulate them, they were certain of that.

"A riddle."

"Let us hear it."

"Past the flowing river hobbit wide, Mountain mist, Woodland dark, in the Darkened Fortress they hide. There should they die, forever in thrall shall they abide."

The creature looked unspeakably pleased with itself when it finished, and even more so perhaps for the flashes of confusion on the faces of Dwarf, Man and Elf alike.

"Tell your Master that we accept your terms." Legolas intoned after a nod from Aragorn and fierce growl from Gimli that might have been 'bloody spiders' or 'tare their hides off', either way the Elf interpreted it as a positive response. "Go, quickly, before I change my mind and turn you into the newest spider shaped pin cushion in Mirkwood."

It scuttled away before his hand had even reached his bow.

* * *

Gertol was a grumpy know it all, Orcs smelled and Alleria too nosy for her own good, Lothlorn decided from the confines of his self-induced haze. The two girls had been spouting drivel for the past hour and if they did not shut up soon he would be forced to knock his friends out. The orcs were making them walk today, chained together and in turn chained to a horse. It did not help matters that they now had to walk blindfolded. He tuned back into their current conversation. About their fathers. Again.

"...do you think they'd have gone there Alleria? My da' would be more likely to go charging in I'm sure."

"Of course they would! Father's always on about how there's no decent trackers in Gondor, and nothing to track besides. He'd head straight for Mirkwood, your father too. King Legolas is his best friend, so of course he'd go there for help!"

"Well, it makes sense, I suppose. I just hope they get here before we end up orc 'sup."

"They won't kill us." Lothlorn said, quietly but firmly. He turned his head in the general direction of his two friends.

"How d'ye know?"

Lothlorn smiled a fatalistic smile and rolled his shoulders, knowing that they couldn't see the shrug. "We're not dead yet."

* * *

The one known as Ackler grinned. Oh how easily the Sons of Oropher bent under doubt and rage! They ever had been fools, though dangerous ones. Indeed yes. He looked either side of him at his weaker companions in Lob and Hersh, each of whom had their own grievances toward either Gimli or Aragorn. For himself he intended to have the Elven King's head on a spear. Aye, and put there by his own beloved son too.

Perchance he should begin his 'adoption' of the young Lothlorn this eve... The orcs dropped a pace behind as a mad cackling laugh suddenly escaped their leader.


	5. Chapter 5 It Starts

**Love of Thy Father (5?)**

**Note:** To fill in a slight plot gap here, mainly because the scene would spoil the story, after the spider left They had been persuaded to wait the rest of the day by Glorfidel. The night had been successfully employed by the trio in Legolas' wines, while Glorfindel supervised their provisions ect ect. Thanks!

**Reviewers:**

Anariel:- Thanks very much, you made my week with this review!

The Reviewer without a name:- Then I'll have to change my threat, ne? Thanks.

Liyanette:- Here's another chapter, so don't forget to review!

Star-Stallion:- Thanks for reminding me about this fic! I have too many of the things on the go, so this part is all for you honey!

**Revised Standard Threat:-** Review or Legolas' hair goes Eminem! MWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAA!

Key:-

_Elvish_

"Common tounge"

_:Thoughts:_

'Orcish'

It was a widely known fact that the House of Oropher had an unfortunate liking for Wine. It was also unfortunate that the sons of the same house could be decidedly moody and violent when they had partaken of their extensive wine stores, Aragorn reflected fingering a bruise on his cheek that had very nearly been a black eye caused by Legolas' fist connecting with the side of his head the night before, when he'd dared to repete his suggestion that their children may be dead already.

Aragorn noticed dimly, as he waded through his fogged mind, that all the elves, even Glorfindel, were being especially courteous to their leader. He chuckled, although there was only a little mirth in the sound and Gimli gave him a similar sort of smile. The dwarf had not gone unscathed the night before, for while he had not been physically harmed, Aragorn knew from years of experience that Legolas Thraundilion's bark could do more damage to eardrums than his bite. Gimli gestured in the direction of their blonde friend with the breifest of nods. He appeared to be lecturing Glorfindel on the governing of the kingdom, to contact Elladan and Elrohir too keep up their patrols and many more insignificant things. For his part, Glorfindel, slayer of Balrogs and lord of the golden flower, wore the expression of a child that was being given instructions by his mother on how to behave for the fiftieth time.

"He would frighten Sauron with a face like that." Gimli muttered through his beard, and they both had to stifle a laugh.

"He frightens me with a face like that!" Aragorn admitted loud enough for the elf to hear as Legolas turned his sharp grey eyes on them. Absurdly, Aragorn felt relief when he spotted the grim smile in his face. For a moment in the early morning mist that had yet to rise, and the still perpetual gloom of Mirkwood, it had seemed to Aragorn that it was Thraundil standing there as he watched his youngest son ride away with a young ranger on a scouting mission to train the human. But Thraunduil had never smiled at him, not even in the sad but determined way his friend now did. It was Gimli's stifled chuckles that finally broke him out of the long past. With an annoyed 'tut' Legolas mounted his horse smoothly, before turning back to them with a slightly more genuine smile.

"Well, Children," Legolas grinned, using the old nickname that had needled the whole Fellowship for the first months "time for a Treasure hunt."

Gimli laughed a little too loudly as he allowed himself to be pulled up behind Legolas in the saddle, and Aragorn chuckled to himself as he nudged his own steed to catch up with the Dwarf and Elf. Songs of luck rang out loudly in the forest that day as they began their quest.

* * *

Glorfindel stopped singing as the three Lords left his sight. One thing worried at him as he ordered elves back to their duties. It nagged at him until he was finally forced to admit it to himself. Their laughter and smiles and jokes, as natural as they had seemed...What worried him was simple, but he interpreted it as significant. 

Not one of them, not even Legolas had returned those wishes of good luck.

* * *

Lothlorn was suspicious. They'd stopped in the earliest hours of the morning and the Orcs had left them alone. The sounds of the forest were strange to him, yet still they screamed so much of home. They called to him as an elvish prince, wanted him to stay with them, wanted him to lift the darkness. How could he do that when he couldn't lift the spirits of his own heart? 

_I'm sorry_, he whispered into the cold air that cooled his sweaty skin and removed, if only for now, the smell of Orc from his nose _I'm so very sorry._

Footsteps.

He heard the light steps before he heard the deep voice and the swishing of robes. To whom are you appologising? it asked in the high tounge.

He found the blindfold frustrating at the best of times, but none more so than now. He couldn't see to whom he was speaking, so couldn't trust them. Lothlorn reminded himself that he had, after all, been kidnapped, so trusting anyone was out of the question. He kept his mouth firmly shut.

_I don't do this to hurt you, Lothlorn. I hope that you and I can come to some sort of understanding, maybe friends_. A warm hand that was not thick and calloused like the Orcs, but light, smooth and fine, was laid companionably on his shoulder. _Were you not your fathers son, you would not be here at all._ and with that both the presence and the hand were removed, leaving Lothlorn Legolaion far more confused than before. It did not even occur to him until they began to move again to wonder where Alleria and Gertol were.


	6. Chapter 6 Figuring things out

**Love of thy Father (6?)**

**Disclaimer:** See previous parts

**Notes:** I will be continuing this ASAP, so Thanks to everyone that's already reviewed, and please bear with me. I WILL be finishing all my stories if you give me enough time, and remember, the Gods of Fan Fiction demand reviews!

* * *

"Past the flowing river hobbit wide, Mountain mist, Woodland dark, in the Darkened Fortress they hide. There should they die, forever in thrall shall they abide." A fell voice muttered into the dusk. The voice was not a voice made for sadness or burden. It should have been raised in song and its owner rejoicing in life. Instead it was cold as ice and the plants nearby suffered from his climbing despair, wilting just slightly.

"I wish you'd stop muttering that, Legolas." Aragorn sighed for perhaps the third time since they had arrived at the small clearing.

"We have to discover the answer, Aragorn." Legolas pointed out wearily, striding over to the human crouching down near the fire, feeding it with the small sticks already in a pile nearby. It was a testament perhaps to their worry that both Elf and Ranger failed to hear the soft thudding of the dwarf's heavy steps before he was practically on them.

"If only we had the hobbits with us now, eh?" Gimli spoke up, dumping his contribution to the firewood near his two startled companions. "As I remember it, they were always good at riddles."

It's difficult to say whether Aragorn's or Legolas' face showed the realization first. They looked at each other for a moment.

"Tell me, Master Elf, why didn't you think of that earlier!"

"I'll give you my answer when you give me yours!"

Gimli frowned at them, deciding that he didn't really want to know what was running through the heads of beings that would sit in the middle of Mirkwood forest yelling at one another.

"You damn fools, what are your rambling on about?"

"We'll depend upon the Hobbits, Gimli!"

Gimli blinked at Aragorn in confusion before turning slowly to the elf next to him.

"Legolas, can you decode rambling ranger?" He asked unsure about whether there was an enchantment on this part of the woods that made the reasonable speak nonsense.

"He's saying that we will send the Hobbit's a message, and get them to solve the riddle if we don't solve it ourselves before they do."

Aragorn nodded in agreement, his face slightly less grim than it had been earlier. Silence descended while Gimli thought about his proposition. Slowly he shook his head.

"How will we get the message to them now without going back to your halls?"

Legolas frowned thoughtfully.

"We will find one of my scouts. There should be some out this far. Meanwhile we have the best tracker in Middle Earth here, and we'll keep following them." He sighed, resting against the nearest tree "It's nearly dark, this forest is a dangerous place to travel in after nightfall so take your chance to get some rest."

They passed an uncomfortable night under the branches of Mirkwood, whoever was on watch slowly feeding dry sticks into the fire to keep it burning.

* * *

The sun climbed from it's cradle in the east, into the highest reaches of the sky where it brushed the stars before beginning to decent to it's western cradle to wait out the long hours of night. The orcs had refused to move during the daylight this time, having found a thick patch of wood to shelter in, so a small group of Uruk Hai, two of the leaders and of course their blindfolded young hostages kept going.

"Ow!"

Behind his blindfold, Lothlorn rolled his eyes at the sound of Gertol tripping over something yet again. Maybe she hadn't realized she could look out of the bottom of the coarse material, and if nothing else to see where her feet were going. He'd figured it out when dawn had broken, revealing the small slice of sunshine he'd had to strain to see through. Alleria, he guessed from the lack of noise concerned with unexpectedly tripping, had figured it out a few hours earlier. Still, the Princess would tell Gertol of this later, no doubt of it. They had shared everything in the last day, and he could hear them whispering between themselves even now, a few feet behind him. Maybe she was telling her about it now or maybe they were whispering about their fathers again.

The ground greeted him with a hard slap across the face when his toe caught in a root of an especially reproachful oak. He growled and shrugged off the course hand that dragged him to his feet once more. Fixing his eyes on the path before him he carried on determinedly, lapses like that, like taking his eyes off the path were not something that should happen. The one thing he thought he'd learnt was never to let your attention lapse.

There was silence now from the two females, and the only thing that could be heard was the marching feet of the orcs, the hooves of three horses and somewhere behind him the oak was still complaining about its hurt root. And so it stayed for a little while, his suppressed anger stopped him from hearing Gertol's muffled sniffs or Alleria's nervous habit of cracking her knuckles.

* * *

Ackler and Hersh burst into the largish room near the top of the tower that was currently serving as their inner sanctum. Hersh, the taller and undoubtedly handsomer of the pair, sprawled himself across his personal seat, turning the fairly simple padded chair into a podium, and somehow managing to display himself to his best advantage. Annoyed with his brother, Ackler tossed his cloak at him before marching smartly to his own seat situated behind the room's only desk, a grand affair with all the complicated weaving patterns of Imladris twisting and turning in their black lacquer casings, matching the carvings on the black marble flooring which spiralled outwards and up the obsidian walls, even over the bookshelves filled with scrolls and precious few codex. Behind this centrepiece, Ackler turned on his brother.

"Stop preening, you bloody wench! No one can see you!" Huffing, he all but threw himself into his bookcase until he was up to his elbows in the old scrolls. "One of these days I'll let Lob have his fun with you."

Yawning, Hersh closed his eyes, rested his finely drawn hands behind his head after tucking long silky black hair behind pointed ears. He met his brother's hostile eyes without any hesitation or any actual emotion.

"You'd do no such thing, brother mine, because while you have the brains, and Lob has the strength, I have the silver tongue required to bring about certain aspects of your plan." He stretched languidly. "You have all the charm of an Orc horde. You can't afford to kill me."

Ackler snorted and drew out a map from the wall of scrolls behind him, a small cloud of dust following it. Hersh smirked to himself and flung the cloak onto his brother's seat with a snap of the wrist. "Not yet, little brother. Not yet."

"Never, my dear Ackler. Never." Hersh smiled sharply at the frustrated look on his brother's face. "But I'm already weary of this bout of sibling rivalry. Tell me what you have planned for our young guests."

Ackler looked over at the eager look in his brothers' eyes with pleasure. At least it could be said they had that much in common, a vested interest in causing as much pain as they possibly could to their enemies. Not like Lob. No, the only things that hulking fool had ever shown any interest in was weapons, women, wine, and occasionally a bit of swift vengeance. Usually in that order he noted with a barely perceptible wrinkle of his nose from disgust. His youngest brother was infinitely better than Lob, so perhaps he could share just enough with him.

"Come here then, my ignorant brother." He flattened out the scroll set before him and weighted down the corners. In his eagerness, Hersh had launched himself out of the chair with a good deal less grace than with which he had entered it, his young face as eager for bloodshed as any dark lord could wish. "Let me tell you the next part of my plan."

* * *

Desperate to distract himself from thoughts that would only make him trip again, he had returned to his original line of thought. Never mind about what had gotten him here, what about the girls? Alleria was older than him, it was true, but only by a few months and she didn't get the sort of training that he got by living in Mirkwood, did she? Would she have figured out that if you kept moving the way your hands were positioned, their tied hands would not cramp as badly? Or that rotating your shoulders every ten minutes or so would provide temporary relief? How were either of them coping with the lack of food? The lack of rest? Someone or something tugging roughly on his ropes distracted him from these external thoughts, and their steady trudge came to a halt. His feet were aching too much, and his head packed with too much sense for him to be in the least relived by the stop. There had to be a reason.

It didn't assure him in the least when he was proved right. Rough hands once more grabbed hold of him, lifting his feet from the floor however much he struggled against it. With his eyes covered, the stench of Orcs so close about him almost overwhelmed his senses, and his ears pricked from the sheer noise of their armour combined with their thumping feet.

**AUTHORS NOTE:**

I realise that it's been an unbeliveably long time since I last updated my fics, but I promise you I will set about finishing this one first after my exams finish in May. Until then, please be patient just a few weeks more, and take a look at my rewrites of the first three chapters to tide you over.


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